


Morose

by rinkinkirs



Category: Supernatural, Trolljegeren | TrollHunter (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:06:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinkinkirs/pseuds/rinkinkirs
Summary: Bobby pulls his hat down as the man walks by.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Molefonken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/356819) by [rinkinkirs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinkinkirs/pseuds/rinkinkirs). 



> This is a translation of [Molefonken](http://archiveofourown.org/works/356819). It's not particularly accurate, but it flows better like that. Please let me know if you have suggestions for improved translations. Sorry about the incredibly uncreative title. :P
> 
> In SPN Bobby reads Edo-period Japanese, so it's not unlikely that he knows other languages. My fic theory is that he travelled the world after his family died and acquired knowledge (and a network of contacts) of myths, legends and superstitions around the world -- here in Scandinavia, where he meets Hans in his hunt for an expert in the field.

The man stands out in a crowd. There's something about the way he walks that feels dangerous, and maybe the average person wouldn't notice, but Bobby knows danger. He's come a long way to find this particular man.

Bobby pulls his hat down as the man walks by. He's in a corner of the kiosk, next to a trash can. The laminate flooring sticks to his shoes whenever he shifts his weight. The goods and brand names are all different from home, but the feeling is the same - a waiting room, a place of temporality, where time and space melts together into something grey and immeasurable. The weather isn't any better; clouds heavy with rain have been a consistent companion. Bobby's reflection in the window looks tired, staring back from the half-dark outside.

A shadow falls on his shoes.

"Why are you following me?" the man asks. He's holding a hot dog in one hand, coffee in the other.

Bobby doesn't answer.

"You, with the hat and the newspaper. Why are you following me?"

Bobby looks up. The man stares at him with a sour expression, obvious even through a messy beard. There's something wild about him, something uncivilized he can't quite figure out, but he knows without a doubt he's found the person he's looking for.

"Your name is Hans," Bobby says.

"Yes. My name is Hans," the man says. "How do you know?"

"I've heard... rumours?* Bobby's Norwegian is still rough, with a heavy American accent. He's always been quick to pick up languges, but he only had a few weeks to prepare.

"Really," Hans says. "You've heard rumours."

Bobby feels like he's being made fun of. He's not sure why. "You're a hunter."

"I'm a janitor," Hans says. "Perhaps even an ombudsman."

Bobby stares at Hans, feels the frustrasion build up in his veins. Hans stares back with a stubborn set to his jaw.

"Is there a place we can speak in confidence?"

Hans wrinkles his nose. "Why would I want to speak with you?"

"Trolls," Bobby says.

Hans looks at him, body language turning decidedly hostile. "I don't know anything about trolls," he says.

"I know who you are."

"You know nothing," Hans says, and turns to leave.

Bobby grabs his arm. "Then you see my problem," he says.

Hans must see something in his face; he stops, takes a deep breath. "My car," he says, and leaves the kiosk.

**Author's Note:**

> * rumours - the word used in norwegian would be 'gjetord', which sounds old-fashioned and fairytale-esque
> 
> Figuring out how to translate "Hans ser på ham som forsteinet" (Hans looks at him like [Hans is] turned into stone) was interesting, because i can't write "Hans looks at him like he's stoned" and that was the only thing my brain wanted to think of.


End file.
